


Yes, Mr. President

by WhoopsImASinner



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Light BDSM, Lingerie, M/M, Oval Office, Rough Sex, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:39:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4584597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoopsImASinner/pseuds/WhoopsImASinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Please fuck me,” he bit out. “I need you.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Well,” said Barack, undoing his belt and fly. “I live to serve the people.”</i>
</p><p>Barack and Harry have sex in the Oval Office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, Mr. President

**Author's Note:**

> I blame all my followers who asked me to write Hobama, and 1DHQ for suddenly going from 100 to 0 in the past few days and leaving me with way too much time on my hands. This is totally unbeta'd.

Barack’s neck ached. He had been staring at these documents for hours. He could feel his age all the way in his bones. At 54 years he was still in peak form physically, but his time as the leader of the US had done a number on his mind. He certainly did not have a head full of grey hairs when he came into office eight years ago.

He heard the snick of his bathroom door opening. Finally, he thought, Harry had marched into his office near fifteen minutes ago, not even sparing him a glance as he walked to the ensuite. No matter, Barack was used to his antics at this point. Now, he poked his head out into the office and looked around, making sure there were no visitors. “Can I come in, Mr President?” He asked, smirking. He didn’t wait for a reply.

Barack’s throat went dry as Harry stepped out. He’d never grow tired of seeing one of the world’s most famous celebrities, standing in the oval office, wearing nothing but a silk negligee. The sheer black fabric complimented the tattoos adorning Harry’s lithe form. “You know, you shouldn’t be so bold,” he said, mock-sternly, “I could have my security guards in here in seconds. What do you think they’d do if they saw you?”

Harry flushed, but grinned even wider. “I don’t know - join the fun?”

Barack stood and crossed the room quickly, pressing Harry up against the wall. “Now Mr. Styles,” his voice was dangerous, “Am I going to have to pass a bill declaring touching you to be a capital offence?”

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft whine erupting from the back of his throat. “Do you think I dress up like this for just anyone?” he asked, in lieu of responding to Barack’s question.

Barack took in the way silk the hugged Harry’s body, he stepped back, gesturing for Harry to spin. The lace panties clung to Harry’s ass and Barack couldn’t stop himself from reaching forward and grabbing his cheeks. Harry moaned, bracing his hands against the wall and pushing his ass back into Barack’s touch. “Please,” he whimpered.

Barack stepped in close again, grinding into Harry’s clothed crack. “I thought you were still on tour,” he said into Harry’s ear.

Harry worked his hips back in small circles, “I, uhn, I have a two day break. Flew right out to see you.”

Barack was about to respond when his dick bumped up against something… hard. “What’s this Harry?” he asked, hands already moving to find out. He pressed down on the unyielding object, and Harry keened. “Have you been naughty?” Deftly, his fingers pulled Harry’s panties to the side, revealing a small plug sticking out of his pretty hole.

Harry panted. “Just wanted to be ready for you,” he moaned as Barack started to pump the toy in and out of him, “Mr. President.”

A bolt of arousal traveled down Barack’s spine. He stepped back and marched them over to the desk. Carelessly, he tossed his laptop onto the chair and sweeped his papers onto the floor - he’d get his staff to clean those up later. He bent Harry over it. “You’re a little slut for it, aren’t you?” Barack asked, pulling Harry’s cheek to the side to get a better look at the plug. He ran his thumb around his rim, pressing in slightly. Harry gasped, rutting his dick forward into the wood of the desk.

Barack removed his hands, moving to reposition Harry’s so that they were above him, gripping the edge of the desk. “Keep those there,” he warned, “or there will be consequences.”

Harry nodded, pressing his face against the cool surface beneath him. “Yes, Mr. President."

Satisfied, Barack stepped away to enjoy the view. The desk was just tall enough that Harry was forced onto his toes to stay leant over it, his thighs and calf tense with the exertion. The negligee had slipped up, revealing a thin sliver of skin above his panties. Barack slid those down, keeping Harry’s dick trapped but showing his hole, which was clenched tight around the plug. “Maybe I should get back to work,” he mused, slapping a hand down hard on Harry’s bum. “Leave you like this,” another slap, “so anyone,” slap, “could come in.” He squeezed Harry’s cheeks roughly, causing the boy to groan and arch away. “Let them see what a pretty little whore you are.”

“Please,” Harry begged, his hands twitching where they held the wood, “Please Mr. President.”

“Please what, Harry?” Barack asked, softly, his finger tapping against the base of the plug.

Harry shuddered, struggling with the desire to both move away and into Barack’s unforgiving hands. “Please fuck me,” he bit out. “I need you.”

“Well,” said Barack, undoing his belt and fly. “I live to serve the people.” He eased the plug out of Harry, causing him to whine. His hole twitched against the sudden emptiness, and he shifted his weight back and forth from one leg to another. “Stop squirming,” Barack ordered. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his wallet, retrieving a packet of lube from it. Quickly he coated his dick, then lined himself up and pushed in in one smooth motion.

Harry moaned, the air punched out of his lungs from Barack’s thick cock. “Fuck!” he cried, his knuckles turning white where they were grasping the edge of the desk.

“Try to stay quiet,” Barack said, his own voice strained. “Don’t forget that my security is outside.”

And Harry tried, but in just a few thrusts he was moaning loud again, his voice hitching. Barack was hitting his prostate each time, and his cock was rubbing against the silk of his panties, and it was too much. Abruptly, Barack pulled out. "I told you to stay quiet," he said, and dropped to his knees.

"What are you-" Harry asked, bewildered. Then he felt Barack pulling his panties down his legs. He stepped out of them, and Barack stood up with them in his hand.

He shoved the panties against Harry's lips. "Open." Harry complied, and they were stuffed into his mouth. He gagged, choking on the fabric and breathing deeply through his nose. "Good." Barack said.

Harry groaned as Barack thrust in again, but the noise was significantly muffled now. His tongue rubbed against the silk, tasting his own sweat and precome on the cloth. He felt his face flush, knowing how filthy he looked now. His hips slammed into the desk with each snap of Barack's, he'd have bruises tomorrow.

Barack's hands creeped up his body, pinching Harry's nipples through the fabric of the negligee. "Could you come like this?" He asked, "Without me even touching you here?" He ran his palm over the head of Harry's dick, where it was trapped between the desk and his body. Harry whimpered pitifully, tears springing to his eyes as he tried to buck into Barack's hand. "No? We'll have to test that another time then." He slid his hand down, so that he was holding Harry's dick, but not stroking him. Harry shuddered, he was being used like a toy. His position gave him no leverage to move, with Barack pinning him down he was completely at the president's mercy.

His thighs were burning from standing on his toes for so long. To his relief Barack tapped his wrists, “You can let go now.” He did, and immediately the president pulled him back, so he was no longer pressed against the edge of the desk and his feet were firmly on the floor. Barack stroked his cock in time with his thrusts, quick and hard in a way that had Harry’s toes curling. There was drool leaking out of his mouth now, and he could feel himself hurtling towards his orgasm. With a broken moan he came, his dick twitching violently in Barack’s hand.

Barack fucked him through it, his own orgasm startling him in it’s intensity. He pulled out slowly, watching a little bit of come dribble out of Harry’s hole. He took the panties out of Harry’s mouth. “I’m keeping these,” he said, opening his drawer and dropping them in. He picked up the plug and slid it back inside him, “But you can keep this.” Harry groaned against the intrusion, the dull pressure on his prostate now painful.

He pouted at Barack, but stood up fully regardless. The president sat down in his chair, opening his laptop once more. He gave Harry a regretful look. “I really do need to get back to these files,” he said, “But do you want to stay for dinner tonight? I can have the kitchen make that pork roast you like.”

Harry beamed, “I’d love that.” He leant forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Barack’s lips, almost shyly. When he pulled back Barack could see a slight flush on his cheeks. He turned and walked back towards the bathroom, planning to get changed.

When he reached the door he turned, gave Barack a once over, grinning cockily. “Thank you, Mr. President.”


End file.
